


Finally, Inevitably

by mangoapplepie (jg291)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, MCD as in what happens at the end of s2, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jg291/pseuds/mangoapplepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been dreaming about this a decade. Which works, because Dean has a year left, and he wants to make it count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally, Inevitably

The first time they fucked wasn’t the same for Sam as it was for Dean. See, for Sam, it wasn’t his first time with Dean - well, of course it  _was_  - but it didn’t really actually feel like it when they finally got together that way - when  his daydreams (and wet dreams) that he’d been having since he was 13 finally came true.   
  
The first time Sam dreamed about Dean, he was in 7th grade. It was a special day for Dean - the first day Dad ever let Dean drive the Impala on his own. Sam had debate club that day, and it was winter, so of course it ended after dark. Dean, for some reason, asshole (protective) big brother that he was, didn’t like Sam walking home alone once the sun set - the fact that Sam had already begun his hunter training was completely irrelevant to Dean. So once practice got out, Sam sat on the stoop of the school waiting for Dean to walk over to the spot they normally met in. This time, though, he heard a horn instead. The Impala horn. 

“Sammy!” he hears Dean shout excitedly, the horn honking over and over until Sam finally made eye contact with his brother. “Look at this!” Without getting up, Dean manages to gesture to the fact that he is in fact alone in the car, no Dad in sight. 

Sam feels his grin take over his face as he rushes to get into the car. When he gets in the car, the smile on Dean’s face is infectious, even despite the fact that Sam didn’t think he could smile any wider. In that moment, Dean looks so happy and carefree, a look that Sam had only seen on his brother’s face a few times before. 

Dean’s smile make Sam’s stomach do a weird thing, and he can’t get how - happy - Dean was out of his head all night. So, he isn’t really surprised when he wakes up the next morning having cum all over the couch, and it’s even enough to repress the thoughts of what exactly he was dreaming about when he has to figure out how to clean the couch before Bobby finds a stain.  

The second time Sam dreams about Dean, he remembers it all. He remembers exactly how good it felt when dream-Dean grabbed their cocks together and started rubbing, how satiated he felt when Dean was done, the smile on Dean’s face. The smile is almost enough to stop him from freaking about his not so brotherly feelings, but not quite.

The third time, when he realizes it’s not going to stop any time soon, he gives up pretending to care about how weird it is. 

\--

The dreams only get more intense as Sam grows up. He gets himself a girlfriend in 10th grade, and he thinks it’s good enough. Dean is so proud of his baby brother for scoring the ‘hottest chick in the grade,’ but that only pisses Sam off. Who cares about the hottest chick in the grade when he’s constantly surrounded by the most beautiful person in the world?

It gets worse and worse when they get back on the road junior year, and Dad won’t get them two rooms and Dean and Sam have to share a bed. He stays as far away as he can, but that doesn’t stop Dean from wandering over to get within breathing distance of Sam and tangling their limbs together in the middle of the night. 

How close Dean gets - and how much  _more_  Sam wants - is the winning factor in his decision to go to Stanford. 

\--

It’s not better in college, though, and it doesn’t help when Sam realizes that Brady  _wants_  him, freshman year, and certainly no better when he lets Sam try all the things he’s been imagining for years. It’s better than with the girls, closer to what he wants. Hardness and angles and muscles and the amazing feeling he gets when Brady finds that *spot* and the pleasure is almost enough to make him forget it’s not Dean. 

But it’s not - enough. And then Brady comes back all weird after break. He’s meaner - and way hotter - and for some reason Sam wants him even more, but Brady decides it’s not a good idea anymore and pushes him towards Jess - and so Sam is confused. But it’s not like he’s not used to heartbreak, so he buries himself in Jess and he pretends he’s happy for a while. The dreams stop. 

\--

Obviously, it doesn’t work forever. 

\--

But when it doesn’t work, it brings Dean back into his life. And it didn’t even take Sam a month to get over the ‘love of his life.’ It was a year before he realized that that was because Jess never was the love of his life, because that honor belongs to the idiot who never lets him drive and refuses to play any music that was made past 1980. 

The dreams obviously come back as soon as he gets back into rhythm with Dean, except this time they’re so much more vivid, thanks to his year spent with Brady (and that one time during finals junior year, when things were scarily serious with Jess. Freshly 21, he procured a bottle of whiskey and wouldn’t share with anyone except his best friend, and Brady gets drunk enough that it’s easy enough to sweet talk him into fucking Sam one last time. It’s rough, hard - the opposite of everything with Jess, and of course it was the most intense orgasm Sam ever had. Intense enough to imagine Brady’s eyes flashing black the moment they simultaneously came, but that couldn’t have been right. Obviously.)

Sam dreams about that night, but of course it’s not Brady anymore. Stanford’s not him, anymore. He’s a Winchester again, a hunter. Half of Sam and Dean. 

And then Dad dies. And Sam’s sad, of  _course_  he’s fucking sad, but the emotion he can’t get out of his head is not devastation, it’s relief. Relief that Dad made the deal he did, because he couldn’t lose Dean, not again (even though it was 100% his fault last time). Relief when Dean is so devastated that he asks Sam to share his bed, just that night, to try to gnaw the guilt away. It breaks Sam’s heart when he hears Dean quietly crying into his chest when Dean thinks he’s asleep, but Dean is so close, so present, that Sam can’t help but feel almost content. 

Dean asks to share three nights in a row. On night four, Sam hops into the bed that Dean had just snuggled into, only to be pushed away. With a look of obviously false bravado on his face, Dean tells Sam that he’s fine and he doesn’t need to be needy anymore, he can handle it without Sam. 

Dean doesn’t sleep for a moment that night, and neither does Sam, but Sam is too cowardly to bring it up the next night. 

Eventually he remembers how to sleep again. With his sleep comes those dreams, again and again and again. 

\--

And then Sam dies. And then he’s not dead anymore. He doesn’t feel any different, except for one thing. He’s only alive because of Dean. That was always true, but it’s  _literally_  true now - Dean traded his life for Sam’s. Because he couldn’t live if Sam was dead and soon  _Dean’ll_ be dead and that’s not okay. 

That night, he gets into the bed that Dean has half fallen asleep in, and falls on top of his brother. Dean tries to push him away, tells Sam to go sleep in his own bed, but Sam refuses. He buries his face into Dean’s neck, breathing his brother in, and falls right asleep. 

*****************

Dean doesn’t have any of that backstory. Sam’s his kid brother, he’ll do anything for him, he was devastated when Sam left for college, outright pissed after that, and lonely. Though he doesn’t like admitting it to himself, he was downright ecstatic when Sam’s girl died, because he’s an asshole like that, because maybe it meant Sammy was his again. 

Okay, maybe Dean’s feelings for Sam weren’t exactly brotherly, either. 

\--

(Not even a little.)

\--

Here’s what Dean knows - he’s capable of living without Sammy around, but it sucks, and he doesn’t want to have to do it. Not for four years, certainly not for a fucking lifetime.  

He makes the deal without a second thought. Yeah, hell will be awful, but life without Sam would be just as bad. 

That thought stops Dean - did he actually consider an eternity in hell to be preferable to a few more years without Sam? Fuck, that’s serious. Well, it might not have been the most rational decision Dean’s ever made, but he’s never been rational when Sammy was concerned. 

It’s been such a rough day, though, so when they get to the motel, Dean immediately collapses into the bed closer to the door. He hears Sam saying something about needing a shower and he looks up the moment Sam’s shucks off his shirt. Dean’s deal apparently sealed up Sam’s stab wound because it’s completely gone, giving Dean a clear view of Sam’s prominent abs. That’s nice, Dean thinks, as he feels himself giving in to sleep. 

Sam must kick the bathroom door open when he leaves the shower, because Dean startles when the door clangs into the wall. Dean looks up to grumble, but stops himself when he notices a dripping Sam standing in just a towel. Sam must think that Dean is still asleep when he drops his towel before he has his boxers completely on, and Dean is able to sneak a glance. 

‘Not bad, Sammy,’ he thinks, (and it’s so much more than that), and he just quietly sighs when his cock springs to full attention. He pretends to be asleep, though, because these aren’t new feelings, so to speak, but they’re revelatory to Dean, and he doesn’t want to quite deal with them yet. 

And then Sam - who’s just in his boxers, mind you! - decides tonight is the night he’s ready to cuddle with Dean again, which Dean hasn’t let happen since Dad died, and not since before Stanford before that. He’s afraid Sam will feel his erection, so he tries to push Sam away. 

Sam’s not going to have any of that, though, apparently, and he just cuddles into Dean. Dean rolls over to try to keep Sam away from his increasingly-hard cock, but that doesn’t stop Sam. He simply burrows his face into Dean’s neck and falls asleep. 

The feel of Sam’s breath on Dean’s neck is almost too much to bear. All he can think about is how close Sam is, and how much he wants - how much he’s  _always_  wanted - and how he doesn’t want to waste any more time. 

(He doesn’t have that much time left to waste.) 

\---

After a few more moments of thought, he makes up his mind. He rolls over and wakes Sam up. By poking him all over his bare chest of course, because a)  this is the most important thing he’s ever decided to do and he needs to lighten the mood a little and b) he’s still  _Dean_ , however hellbound he might be, and c) he wanted to check Sam out - those abs, holy shit. 

“What the hell, Dean,” Sam grumbles in a low, rough voice without opening his eyes. Dean likes that voice. “Stop being an idiot, I’m not sleeping in my own bed tonight.” 

“That’s not why I woke you up,” Dean responds, his voice wavering. He can hear the vulnerability in his own voice, so of course Sam can too, causing the younger brother to fully open his eyes and really look at Dean. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks, so much love and care in his voice, Dean wants to crack. 

“I have a year,” Dean states, trying really, really hard to make sure his voice doesn’t waver. He almost succeeds. 

Which is clearly the wrong thing to say, because Dean immediately notices the guilt fall onto Sam’s face. 

“I know that, Dean!” Sam starts, looking frustrated, furious. “What do you want me to -” 

Dean clears his throat to cut Sam off. “I don’t want to waste it,” he declares, unsure of how to proceed when he registers the confusion on Sam’s face. 

Sam looks like he’s going to ask a question, and Dean doesn’t want to hear it. He stops Sam the best way he can. By kissing him. 

If he expects Sam to be surprised, there’s none of that surprise found in his brother’s reaction. Sam simply parts his lips to allow Dean entry, nibbles Dean’s lips, licks his way into his older brother’s mouth. It’s a sweet kiss, but one that neither of them wants to part from, forcing Dean to pull away only for a much needed breath of air. 

“Sam?” Dean asks, excited, elated, but not exactly sure how to move next. “Was that o-” 

“Were you seriously just going to ask me if that was okay?” Sam laughs, his smile reaching all the way up to his eyes. “That’s seriously all I’ve ever wanted since I was 13. Well,  _all_  isn’t exactly the right word, but that’s certainly the start of it.” This is amazing. Yes. “Why, was it not okay for you?”  

With the question, Sam’s face is suddenly worried, and Dean immediately wants to stop that. “It was amazing, Sam, I meant it when I said I don’t want to waste any more time with you. It’s always been you, you know that, right?” 

A complicated show of emotions plays out over Sam’s face - sorrow, elation that must be similar to how Dean is looking, something that Dean hasn’t seen too often but it’s been hardwired into his brain that that’s what Sam looks like when he’s aroused... they can talk this out all they want, but acting on his feelings really seems like the better course here. 

“So, Sammy, when you saw  _all_ , do you mean -” Dean trails off, leering, knowing Sam will get the point. 

“Dean, don’t you think we should talk about this?” Sam implores. 

“How about this plan - fuck first, feelings later? You’re really distracting when you’re this close to naked and rock hard,” Dean grins. To emphasize his point, Dean rolls his hips toward Sam’s, letting out a little moan as he does so. 

Point fucking emphasized.  

Sam pants, trying to say something. Dean lifts his hips up a tiny bit to give Sam the power to speak. “By all, I do indeed mean all. If you’re up for a challenge, I mean,” Sam smirks. “You ever fuck a guy before?” 

He hasn’t. Not a deterrent, though. “Saving it just for you, Sammy,” Dean shoots back, just as smug. And then a thought crosses his mind. “Why, have you?” 

Sam grins. “Fucked a guy? Nah. Been fucked? Yes. It’s been a few years, though, wouldn’t mind giving it a try again.” The grin turns triumphant. 

Dean’s scared now, so he forces himself to think. “A few years? What, when you were with Jess?” 

Sam’s face falls in a way that Dean knows he’s hit the nail on the head, but that’s really not what he wants to be thinking about. “Sorry I said that - you just - goaded me, with all your gay experience and now I have a lot to live up to, okay?” Now Dean’s the vulnerable one, which he hopes will make Sam less upset. 

It works. “Trust me, Dean, it’s no competition. Every single time I was with him, I was thinking about you.” 

Fu-uck. Dean could come then and there. That would really, really kill the mood though, and Dean really doesn’t want to do that. 

He’s a problem solver, and the solution to this is no more talking. He rolls over again, this time directly onto Sam. Sam gasps as he takes on Dean’s weight, which Dean takes as the perfect opportunity to kiss Sam again. It’s rougher this time, like they can’t get enough of each other. They can’t. Dean again only breaks the kiss when he needs to come up for air, but uses it as an opportunity to slide his way down Sam’s body. He kisses his way down Sam’s jaw, neck (and oh, does his brother have a sensitive spot there), chest, nipple (and there, too, he’ll have to play around with that one next time - next time!). When he gets to the top of Sam’s boxers, he pauses. 

Sam immediately understands Dean’s hesitation. “You need me to talk you through what to do?”

A little embarrassed, Dean nods. “Get the lube out of the little pocket inside my backpack, and come back,” Sam tells him. Sam fucking carries around easily accessible lube in his backpack? Regularly? Oh fuck, indeed.

As Dean gets up to grab the, Sam takes off his boxers and starts to turn himself over. 

“What’re you doing, Sammy?” 

“Making it easier, if I’m on my stomach, I mean -” 

Dean cuts him off. “I don’t want easy. I wouldn’t be about to go inside my baby brother if I did. I want to look at you.”  

Sam nods now, settles back onto his back. He does raise his legs, though, for easier access.  Dean gets back onto the bed, and listens as Sam quickly runs through the steps of how to make this go with as little pain as possible. Dean generously coats his fingers with lube and eventually gathers up the courage to stick the first one in. 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, not even intending to say that out loud. But once it’s out, he might as well continue. “How am I supposed to fit in there?”

Sam laughs, a beautiful sound. “You’ll make it work. I’ll be tight, you’ll feel wonderful. I promise.” 

Dean likes the sound of that. He tries to continue following Sam’s instructions, pausing only slightly at Sam’s gasp when he puts the second finger in (”no, Dean, it’s okay, you need to open me up”), and then again when he finds the spot that makes Sam go absolutely fucking crazy, and maybe Sammy could try doing this to him next?  

Eventually, Sam’s screaming: “Stop fucking playing, Dean, get inside me right fucking now.” 

Fucking. Now. Yeah that sounds good. He gets on his knees, gives his obscenely hard cock a few pumps, and lines himself up with Sam’s hole. Taking a deep breath, he enters. 

Yes, yes, this is good. Sam was right, he is tight, and  _holyfuckingshit_  this is so much better than  _any_  girl and why hasn’t he been doing this always? He hears a distant moan as he goes deeper into Sam, barely realizes that it’s his own, but it’s in such lovely contrast to Sam’s grunts and curses and whimpers and Dean’s never heard anything so beautiful in all of his 28 years. 

Dean realizes his eyes have been clenched shut this whole time, and he forces himself to open them. When he does, he goes straight to Sam’s eyes, which are wide open, of course, and staring right back at Dean. Sam smiles, ecstasy all over his face, and it’s enough to bring Dean over the edge. He finishes with a moan, and Sam finishes a moment later. Dean hadn’t even fucking touched him -  _holyfuckingshit_. 

A few seconds later, Dean reluctantly pulls himself out of Sam and decides to roll over and collapse his head onto Sam’s chest (the clean part). 

“Fuck,” Dean murmurs. “I love you. That was incredible, Sammy. Let’s do that until the end, okay?” 

He starts to say more, but he drifts off to sleep instead.

*********************

The end. Those aren’t words Sam ever wants to hear. He’s certainly not going to settle for them, now that he has everything he’s ever wanted. 

But he’ll take what he can get. And right now, if it’s the feeling of a completely fucked-out Dean passed out on top of him, well, that’ll be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first SPN fic, so of course my first Wincest, so comments would be so appreciated!


End file.
